Chapitre 94: GOT : Chapter 94
( Oberyn POV )
"Nymeria, what will become of her? Have you thought about your daughter, uncle? I know that if anyone attempted anything on her, I would burn down castles to bring vengeance to those who harmed her.
She would do the same for me. Do you really think that the Tyrells or Lannisters would keep her alive? And if they did, how long before Nym would've also asked for a trial by battle?"
Oberyn felt his stomach turn into knots.
...
"And Ellaria? And the girls? Do they not matter either? I know you're a selfish man, uncle, but I didn't know that you were this selfish. If you die, then what happens to Ellaria. She is supposed to grieve the man she loves till she dies? If you die, what will happen to Dorea, Loreza or Obella? Do you have to inflict on them the pain of having to grow up without a father to look up to?
If you die, what will happen with Obara and Tyene? You know they would burn down cities to bring vengeance.
And Obara, do you think Obara is going to let the Lannisters get away with anything? Seven hells, she would kill every Lannister, man, woman or child to get vengeance, and you know it! And where does it end for her? Then she'd likely end up dead too, and then who will avenge her? Lady Lance? Obella? You know how wild they are and how much they love you. Would they in turn take up arms?
And Aliandra, uncle? Should she be subjected to having to grow up as a bastard without a father and a mother?"
"I…" Oberyn stammered, trying to bring a hand on his elbow. "Listen, nephew…I will live, there is no…"
"Seven hells, uncle, I know you!" Quentyn lashed out, knocking out his hand. "I know you don't think. After all, I paid for your mistakes and you didn't so much as apologize for it! Or should I remind you why exactly I stayed at Yronwood and what caused the rift between me and Arianne?
Oh yes, it's because you really wanted to fuck the Bloodroyal's paramour, and then in all your wisdom, decided to poison your blade during your duel with him. Why? Why the fuck not! I bet you were young and wanted to teach the man a lesson, or perhaps you found him annoying or gods know what. And don't open your mouth to answer, I couldn't care less what he has done!
In the end, I was the one who had to pay for it! I was the one who was ripped from my family. I was the one that had to live at Yronwood all these years, only seeing my family very periodically. It created a rift between me and Arianne that father never even tried mending, and it caused the rift between father and mother to widen so much that mother went back to Norvos.
And you? You got to live a comfortable exile on Lys, no doubt fucking whores and playing at war all day long. What a great punishment, truly! Especially since I know that father was quite lax on the terms of your exile if I remember correctly.
And now you expect me to believe that you are selfless enough to swiftly defeat the Mountain. Tell me, uncle, will you ask for him to talk?"
"Yes." Oberyn nodded. "He will confess to…"
"Lorch confessed already. There is no need to do more."
"We need witnesses. The Seven Kingdoms must know…"
"The Seven Kingdoms likely know already. I don't want to die because you were too busy trying to have the Mountain confess that he shoved a dagger in your neck, or worse." Quentyn growled. "When you fight the Mountain, you will kill him straight away."
"I'm better than him." Oberyn stood his ground. "Have no fear, nephew, he will confess, and all will be right."
"I have trouble believing you, uncle." Quentyn sighed. "But then, you can show me how you mean to defeat him."
"How?"
"I have managed to get you one hour of combat training every day till the trial by battle is supposed to take place, in a week." Quentyn breathed heavily. "You will be escorted by two kingsguard at all times."
"I…nephew that's…wonderful." Oberyn smiled. "Thank…"
"No." Quentyn shook his head. "Don't you dare thank me."
"Because of your life, nephew I…" Oberyn started, trying to lay excuses, but Quentyn interrupted again.
"No. My life, I am not too worried about. I had contingencies placed in case you lose the fight to get out of here as soon as possible." Quentyn leaned towards him.
"Know that I am not doing this for you, either. You made my life miserable for years, you didn't even consider me as family, didn't even care to apologize or visit. You created a divide in House Martell that will never truly heal. In short, uncle, I could care less about what happens to you.
No, I am doing this for Nym. Because I know she will be devastated if you happen to die, and her fury will shake the entire continent and I'm not losing her for another quest for revenge. I am doing this for Ellaria, because she's a wonderful woman and she loves you with all her heart, and it would be cruel for her to be separated from you.
I am doing this for Aliandra, because she deserved to know her grandfather. I am doing this for all the girls: Obara, Tyene, Sarella, Elia, Obella, Dorea, and Loreza, especially the last three, because I do not wish the fate of growing up without a loving father to anyone. And for all your faults uncle, you do love and care for your children.
Finally, I am doing this for my own father, because he would not be able to bear the grief of having lost his brother and his sister to this wretched city, and for all my father's faults, I do not wish that fate upon him either."
Oberyn sat silently for a few moments, and finally exhaled and nodded.
"I understand."
"Good." Quentyn nodded. "And know this, uncle. When the trial is over, and should you live and gods do I hope you do, you will stop hiding secrets from me. By nightfall on the day of your trial, every single Dornishman and woman will have left the Keep and you will be among them.
You will not do anything stupid, you will not try anything against Tywin Lannister and you will not do anything else than follow my instructions after the trial by battle, do you understand?"
"Nephew, Tywin…"
"I don't care!" Quentyn scowled. "I really don't give two shits anymore. You've done enough damage as it is. Now, you do what I tell you to do, and we can all run back to Dorne. You will answer and be loyal to me, that is the only thanks I expect from my gift to you."
"Loyal?" Oberyn asked. "Quentyn, I'm already loyal to our house, you can't…"
Suddenly, it all became clear in his mind as he connected the bits and pieces left behind by his nephew.
"You…you want to oust your father."
Quentyn didn't answer.
"Answer me, nephew." Oberyn urged. "If you want my spear, answer me."
"Yes." Quentyn replied, stoically.
"And you want me to support you?" Oberyn scoffed.
"No harm will come to father; I will not be a kinslayer."
Oberyn looked at him in disbelief, hands clenched.
"Father has caused enough damage to our house, and he has already nearly made himself an involuntary kinslayer, whether it is through you or me." Quentyn sighed.
"You're going to call a council?" Oberyn asked.
"Yes." Quentyn replied.
"Are you sure you will have all the support you need?"
"After what I am about to do?" Quentyn shrugged. "Yes."
Oberyn sighed. Whether he liked it or not, Quentyn had Dorne in his pocket already. His brother's word was the only thing keeping him from making the decisions for Dorne as a whole.
He could refuse, and talk to Doran about the plot. But his brother would do something erratic, like exile Quentyn, when Dorne needed him the most. It wouldn't do. If there was a chance for greatness to come to house Martell, it was through Quentyn, and not Doran. And it pained him to think that.
"Fine." Oberyn sighed. "I shall support you, but I shall not fight any Dornish brothers if it comes to it."
"That's more than enough." Was Quentyn's only reply.
Oberyn nodded slowly, knots forming in his stomach.
"How did you manage to achieve this?" Oberyn asked.
"I called in every favor I could from Margaery," Quentyn answered slowly.
Oberyn's smile turned into a smirk.
"I knew it." He almost laughed.
"Knew what?"
"It's Margaery, then?"
"Yes." Quentyn shrugged. "She's an interesting woman, and we've met before."
"You love her." Oberyn pointed out.
"No," Quentyn growled.
"Love isn't really appropriate, I am sorry. Perhaps…no, care isn't it either…" Oberyn tried to find the right word for it, searching every corner of his brain.
"I like her?" Quentyn asked.
"Well, that's not it, either," Oberyn replied. "Let's just say you want to marry her."
"Uncle, Nym is the only woman I ever want." Quentyn sighed. "Quit playing your games."
"Yes, but my daughter is a bastard, and you need to marry a trueborn to have a trueborn heir." Oberyn replied. "And the Tyrell girl is pretty, smart and has learned a lot from her grandmother."
Quentyn looked at Oberyn with an astonished gaze.
"You've thought about it." Oberyn laughed.
"I did." Quentyn sighed, rubbing his wavy hair.
"And you and Nym discussed it?"
"We discussed a lot of names and hers was one of them." Quentyn nodded. "There is nothing more to it."
"And?" Oberyn asked. "It would be a good match."
"She's the enemy." Quentyn shrugged. "I doubt I can convince her to run away to Dorne with me so that I can use her to be my consort and bear my heirs while I love another woman that not only do I keep by my side, but who will likely be more of a princess than she."
Oberyn nodded simply.
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